Wind Of The Dreamer
by Soldier Of The Mist
Summary: "Who are you?" That broke my heart. "You don't remember me, Nicky?" I asked, hoping that a spark of recognition would appear in his eyes. "No should I?" That's when my world turned into dust. Set after The Secret Of The Tomb. {Nick/OC}
1. Hate at First Sight

**Summary: **"Who are you?" That broke my heart. "You don't remember me, Nicky?" I asked, hoping that a spark of recognition would appear in his eyes. "No should I?" That's when my world turned into dust. Set after The Secret Of The Tomb.

**Pairing(s):** Nick/OC

**Changes to Character(s): **N/A

**Spoilers To: **Night at the Museum [Possible]

**Type of Story: **Chapter-Filled

**Movies Belongs To:** Shawn Levy (Director/Producer), Chris Columbus &amp; Michael Barnathan (Producers), Robert Garant &amp; Thomas Lennon (Writers)

**Quote_: _** "_Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast._" – Lewis Carroll

**A/N: **Hey, Fanficters! Sorry for the delay, but here is the first new installment of _Wind of the Dreamer._ I hope you enjoyed it.

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**~•~ **_Victoria 'Viria' Caldwell _**~•~**

* * *

**Memory.**

/ˈmem(ə)rē/

The mental capacity or faculty of retaining and reviving facts, events, impressions, etc., or of recalling or recognizing previous experiences.

Memories– whether good or bad– are the most important thing for a human being. These memories make you . . . Well, you.

Am I right?

Though different memories have different effects on different people all around the world. There are three possible outcomes:

You grew stronger since then . . .

. . . You found your true self . . .

. . . or it could have even beaten you down.

Why am I telling you tidbits of psychological information? What does this have to do with anything in this story? Just . . . Why?

Because of said memories, I had to– Actually, I'll tell you in a story form.

I mean, who doesn't love a story? Do you wish to hear it?

I mean you're here for a reason . . .

It all began on the middle of the year, middle of my college year . . .

**~•~**

"This is your third boyfriend in a month, Allison."

I grabbed my frappuccino from the counter. With a quick _"Thank you"_ to the employee, we headed to the tables outside. As I sat down, I looked at said boyfriend as he ran around the college campus with his friends

"I know, but I think he's the one," Allison Parker explained. "He's sweet, smart, and–"

"He is a troublemaker," I interrupted. "That means he can act which cancels out his sweetness. He hacked the school's system to change his grades and erased any trace of his suspension which equals smartness."

"Those are rumors," she countered. "They might not be real."

I raised an eyebrow. "I was there when he got caught. Actually, I reported him."

"I think I could handle him just fine even if it's true, Viria," she said, shaking her head.

I stared at the delicate figure in front of me. She tied her red hair calmly into a ponytail though her green eyes shone with annoyance. _She may look delicate, but she's a fighter._

"Yeah, I know," I whispered, sipping my drink.

"While we're on the topic of boys, have you heard of the new student?" Allison asks.

"How do you know he's a boy?"

"I have . . . my sources."

"Mr. Walters?"

"Yep!"

Mr. Walters was the Literature teacher. He also helps around with the college's newspaper, so he is naturally curious about everything and anything. Plus, he _is_ Allison's cousin.

"What's the details?" I questioned. "Appearance? Grades?"

"So far, I got gray eyes and freckles," she sighed, annoyed. "He's _really_ helpful isn't he?"

"No name?" I continued.

"Classified."

"School classified or No-dating classified?"

"A bit of both," she said, shrugging.

"We have to go," I said. "Class is about to start."

**~•~**

I entered the classroom the moment the bell rang. Quickly, I ran to my seat and took out my binder and my notebooks.

The teacher–a man in his late forties– stood in front of the classroom calling out names. He gave out an occasional warning to the group of boys behind me.

"Ari Baker?"

"Here!"

"Danielle Barrera?"

"Aquí!"

"Victoria Caldwell?"

"Here, professor!" I shouted over the boys.

I look back at a my notebook and flipped the pages until I reached one. I smiled softly as I reexamined the page for the millionth time.

A drawing was almost an exact replica of the photo back at home. It was of two kids hugging each other with big smiles on their faces.

Their hair were messed up and tangled with each other in a sea of blonde and brown. Their eyes had a gleam of craziness and joy.

_If only they knew, _I thought sadly.

I scribbled on the page– darkening a few areas and giving more details to the surroundings– when a knock on the door caught my attention.

I look up to see my worst nightmare.

Nick Daley.

I blinked a few times to make sure I'm not hallucinating. A shiver spread throughout my spine as realization settled in.

_He can't be here! I left five years ago only to find him in _this _college, _I screamed mentally. _Out of all the colleges, why come to this one?_

He leaned casually on the door with a smirk on his face. He was dressed as if he was ready to start the music at a party, and he was the DJ.

I leaned down and let my hair fall in place– a curtain between us– just enough to let me see him take action.

He slipped off his leather jacket and settled it on the chair next to me. The classroom could only stare at the intruding figure.

Finally, the professor gave a small cough and said," You're late, Nick."

"Sorry, _Dad._ There was traffic on the way here," Nick said.

_Dad?_

Professor Daley . . . Nick Daley.

_I'm so stupid! _I thought, frustrated. I looked back down at my notebook. _Oh, come on! Even my notebook knew before I did._

"Don't be late next time," the professor said, sternly. "Now, class, take out your books and turn to page fifty-four."

I grabbed my book and angrily flipped to the page. Once I noticed the title of the chapter, my frazzled nerves slightly calmed down.

Greek mythology was always my favorite subject in history ever since I read the _Percy Jackson_ series in middle school, and I slowly escalated as the new series– _Heroes of Olympus_– came out.

What can I say?

I'm a geek for Greeks.

The rest of the day went rotten, for Nick Daley seems to be in almost every class I attended. I was ready to end it then and there at Mr. Walters class, but the bell rang before I could do anything to him.

At lunch, I stabbed my noodles furiously imagining He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named withering in pain and begging for mercy.

"Oh no," Allison said," who or what is it this time?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I muttered.

Allison grabbed the fork and settled it far from my reach. "I know your angry routine, Victoria. You always get noodles and lemonade in these situations."

"Maybe I just wanted them today," I retorted, annoyed.

"Lemonade? Maybe. Noodles? Never," she countered. " Again who or what was it?"

"Nick . . . Freaking . . . Daley."

"Who's he?" she asked. "Wait, isn't he–"

"The new boy?" I hissed. "Yes."

At that moment, a shadow fell over our table. We both looked up and saw the devil himself standing there with _that_ stupid smile on his face.

"Hello, ladies," he greeted. "A lovely day isn't it?"

"It would've been if weren't here," I said, casually. "Or if you never existed in the first place."

He placed his hands over his heart. "You wound me, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that!"

"Ok, honey."

"Or that!"

"You sure, milady?"

"Stop it! Go away, Daley!"

"As you wish, baby," he whispered, seductively, in my ear before he left.

"Ugh!" I shouted, getting looks from the tables around us. "That little, insufferable, disgusting brat is the most–"

"Cutest guy you every seen," Allison interrupted.

"What?"

"Viria, you have to admit he is cute," she said. "Do you have a thing for him?"

"Why would I?" I countered, disgusted.

"Haven't you heard of 'love at first sight'?" she inquired. "What about 'hate turned love' situations?"

"I don't belive in that. That only happens in books," I reasoned. "If anything it's hate at first sight."

"Whatever, Viria," she said, unconvinced. "It will happen to you with 'Nick Freaking Daley'."

"Not likely."

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**I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**Please R&amp;R if you liked this version better.**

**\- Soldier Of The Mist **


	2. Unknown

**Summary: **"Who are you?" That broke my heart. "You don't remember me, Nicky?" I asked, hoping that a spark of recognition would appear in his eyes. "No should I?" That's when my world turned into dust. Set after The Secret Of The Tomb.

**Pairing(s):** Nick/OC

**Changes to Character(s): **N/A

**Spoilers To: **Night at the Museum [Possible]

**Type of Story: **Chapter-Filled

**Movies Belongs To:** Shawn Levy (Director/Producer), Chris Columbus &amp; Michael Barnathan (Producers), Robert Garant &amp; Thomas Lennon (Writers)

**Quote_: _**"_Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast._" – Lewis Carroll

**A/N: **Hey, Fanficters! I'm sorry I haven't updated, but I'm going to be updating less than usual. Due to trouble with the Internet, my family is going to cut from it. I'm sorry.

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**~•~** _Victoria "Viria" Caldwell _** ~•~**

* * *

"Well, isn't this day getting better and better?"

First, I had to deal with _Nick Daley_ in all of my classes and unfortunately the rest of college year. Now, I have to walk home.

Normally, I wouldn't mind walking home. I was only a mile or two from the college campus, so I get to enjoy most of my trips back as I viewed the beauty of nature.

This was the only day that must've been cursed for me by some kind of paranormal creature. _What have my ancestors done to anger them to curse their future generation?_

I was walking to the parking lot when one of the college students bumped into me spilling my Starbucks coffee on my brand new sweater. He was lucky it wasn't scolding hot!

After that, I noticed my car being towed into the distance. The only thing that was left behind was a ticket for parking in a No-Parking Zone.

I began my miserable journey home. I was passing the usual neighborhood and found it that one of the houses owned a new dog. It got loose and chased me around before I lost it by jumping over a fence.

My only comfort was my MP3 player. I was listening to Meghan Trainor's "Walkashame" which —ironically— I was doing.

"_I shook it up and danced like a dummy, dumb, dumb," _I sang as I pushed away a branch. I opened the iron gate and kicked a few leaves as I began to dance a bit.

It wasn't until the ground rumbled that I looked up and saw the house. Flashes of blue, green, and red were glowing against the window. Another jolt sent a shiver in my bones.

"You didn't," I said, disbelieving.

I ran towards the door and almost tore it from its hinges from the force. I saw people dancing and drinking away not noticing or even caring about me.

_"You are so dead!"_

I pushed past the sweaty mass of people trying to head to the _very_ talented DJ player. He was bouncing along with the beat of the music. He shook his shaggy, black hair when he caught sight of my angry demeanor.

He smiled, nervously. "Hey, V! I see you wanted to join the party?"

I glared at my twin brother.

"Or not," he muttered. "What do you want?"

"I want all of this people out of our house," I said. "Every single bit of trash thrown away before anyone calls the cops, Sebastian."

"I can handle a few cops," he said, dismissively.

"Can you handle a very angry Aunt Marie and a broken nose," I threatened. "The news of the party must've spread around probably the same time it would take for the ambulance to arrive."

"Aunt Marie?" he said, gravely. "You wouldn't."

"I might let slip to what happened to her favorite cat," I continued. "What a tragic _accident_ it was."

"Fine," he said.

Immediately, he began shouting at the crowd to leave. The crowd gave a protest, but he continued to push them out. In a few minutes, the whole house was clear except for the trash.

"Now, clean the house while I shower," I told him. "This is not my day."

**~•~**

Hours after the party, Sebastian and I were preparing dinner while waiting for our aunt. I cooked the bubbling sauce while he did the spaghetti.

"Who do you think appeared today in my class?" I asked him, rhetorically.

He thought for a few seconds. "Emily Lin?"

"No."

"Jonathan Smith?"

"Nope."

"Who then?" He asked.

"Nick Daley," I said, disgusted.

He turned around in shock. "That idiot is your class?"

"Yep," I said. "I swear, he is just trying to make my life a nightmare. Could you get the plates, please?"

He opened the cabinet and passed the plates. "Tell me that he is in only one of your classes?"

"In every single class."

I scooped some of the spaghetti onto the plate before adding the sauce. Sebastian grabbed the utensils, and we set the table.

We heard the door opened, and our aunt placed the keys. She gave us a quick wave before sitting down.

"Hey, we made spaghetti today."

Aunt Marie waved her hands around. She was mute which caused us a bit of trouble a few years ago, but we got the hand of it quickly.

_Thank you. How was your day, sweetie?_

"It was good," I lied. "Just a bit of trouble with an essay in History, but I think I got it."

_Did Sebastian get in any trouble today?_

I gave Sebastian a glance. "It's one of those rare days that he isn't."

She nodded and began to ask Seb a few questions. The rest of the dinner consisted of Sebestian making us laugh.

**~•~**

I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop. After searching a few pages, I found the website and began to work on my essay for Literature.

**"Battle for Beauty"**

_For many years, kids of young ages have heard from their parents to believe in the _

_ beauty i__nside of them. They have built themselves on this saying until they reached they age of_

_adolescence where beauty has been viewed as a competition between the social ladder destr_—

Suddenly, a soft _ping _sounded from my phone. I quickly pressed my code and saw a message awaiting my attention. _Unknown_ was the caller ID.

**Unknown - **'Hey, Viria.'

**Me - **'Who is this?'

**Unknown - **'Why don't you guess, milady?'

_No way, _I thought. _There is no way that Nick Daley has my number. _I immediately sent one last text— _Never text me again_— and blocked his number.

"He must be part-leech or something," I muttered under my breath. "He is way too clingy."

I went back to my paper, but the text Daley sent kept me from writing a single word. I let out a heavy sigh. _Just leave me alone, Daley, or I swear . . ._

Quickly, I headed down the stairs with my phone in hand. I quickly told Aunt Marie I was going to Allison's and dialed a taxi. I still haven't retrieved my car back from the tow company.

The taxi pulled up to the driveway and sped down the highway. Thirty minutes later, I was at the steps of her house. Allison gave a small wave from her window.

Once I arrived at her room, I told her the situation with Daley. She only smiled through the entire tale of misery and horror that is Nick Daley.

"He is _so_ into you," she said.

"Really," I asked," or is he trying to be a pest?"

She raised her brow. "He went through all that trouble to get your number. Not many boys do that you know . . . Unless they're a creepy stalker."

"He's the latter," I moaned. "I wish I'd never met him."

"What exactly did he do to you?" she asked.

I paused. "I rather not say," I whispered.

"We're friends. You can tell me anything."

I sighed for the second time that day. "Let's just say . . . He broke my heart."

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**I hoped you enjoyed it!**

**Please R&amp;R.**

**\- Soldier Of The Mist **


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